“When you arise in the morning, think of what a precious privilege it is to be alive, to breathe, to think, to enjoy, to love.”
-Marcus Aurelius
Through my eyes, lets look at this Elite launch gig.
Here in Waddington it is the 99th time I’ve watched an Elite Series takeoff on the first day of competition.
And it is my favorite part of the whole gig.
Crew call this morning was at 4:45 a.m., we pulled into the event location around 5:15 a.m., it is the best time, the air is cool and rests in the back of your nose, the water is coming awake you can hear the waves wake up, and above the moon watches all.
At first you only see the shape, darkness holds tight its grip, and then the boat glides into view as a passenger of the morning, I’ve always thought it to be a gentle introduction of boat and lake.
And as the light starts to exert itself good friends come into view out on the water, it’s very cool when they look up and say “Good Morning,” just as the morning is getting good.
It’s like when the orchestra begins softly and starts to build intensity, soon interviews start happening, that’s my BUDDY Steve interviewing good buddy Rick Clunn. Mornings are the times when “hard news” begins, it’s when the “game reporters,” get about to their business of facts and “hows.” I admire what they do because I stink at that kind of stuff, I watch them, I listen to them and I give them there space to do their job, and that in this business is called simply…respect.
The interviews pretty much announce that it’s family time, the wives, girlfriends, families of the anglers start to gather ‘round the boats, and while there is certainly competition out here in the sport, there is also out here in the sport a sense of family. I have watched Elite couples grow into moms and dads, watched moms and dads grow into grandmothers and grandfathers…
…and puppies grow into dogs.
I am jealous of this moment, it is the moment of last prep, the moment where you are alone in only your thoughts of the game about to be played. Do I go north, do I go south, do I fish deep or shallow, my best spot or my backup spot? It is the moment I most love as I write, it is the moment when I put on the headphones, crank up the song and pace the hotel room as the story builds itself within me, those few seconds before we yell 3…2…1…go, pure sweetness my friends as all things are possible.
And then comes “game face,” the rods and reels are strapped down, the jackets are zipped up, the motors begin to come to life and the jockeying begins as the seconds get closer to ready…set…
…GO! 6:15 a.m. is when the green flag drops, and suddenly the game is on. To me it is the time when the football leaves the kicker’s foot and climbs into the sky, it is the time when it turns and tumbles downward, and the crowd watches every tumble, the crowd stands, the stadium comes alive, and for one second, one final moment before the leather ball touches the gloved hands, one beat of time, the stadium takes a breath and it is silent and standing on the sidelines you can actually hear the football caught. It is the same on water, as they idle by I know that in a moment all hell will break loose…
…and before they break loose I go and stand silently with and behind the fans because it is those folks, you, who recharge me, your enthusiasm, your wonder, your happiness can be felt and lived by me through you.
As the boats take to the field of play in a single file line I can feel the anticipation from you for when the best in the business, for when the best anglers on Earth pass the pits of this game…the “no wake zone,” and suddenly stomp on it and that big motor is allowed to wake up…
…and wake up the dreams of those on the bank, especially the children. It is to them that this sport belongs, it is to them that we must treat the game with kindness, with integrity, and sportsmanship because someday they will be the ones who will turn the key and take to the field of play. I’m asked all the time about the future of this game and when asked my answer is simply this, “Look to those on the bank, look to the children standing there…”
“…look to the fans who look to us as stewards of the game.” The moment we, all of us, believe or act like it is our game is the day it won’t be, is the day the sport will fade away.
The game, is for those who are playing in it.
The sport, is for those who watch.
We who do the game borrow the sport from you who watch.
But it is your sport and all of us in the game need to be respectful of your property, it’s our bus, but you put the gas in it.
Thank you for that.
And soon all the boats are gone, all the fans have packed up and headed home, and the last interview is in the can. For me the 99th launch is almost done, almost…
…but not until I come to these empty bump bins. I waited until most everyone was gone because I knew that even with the mirrored sunglasses on a tear would roll out from underneath as I stood here. We, the family of B.A.S.S., lost a long time co-worker, a great guy respected by all who knew him…Max Leatherwood…who worked those bump bins for as long as I’ve been here, and more.
This morning we took a moment of silence to remember Max, but for me I had to come by these things one time, had to touch them, had to feel for just a moment Max’s presence.
Max and I used to kid that we were BFFs.
My BFF’s forever didn’t last near long enough.
Tell loved ones you love them while they can hear it, hug them while they can feel it, lock those smiles you have of them in your soul.
That was my 99th Elite first day launch.
Through my eyes.
db
“Buy the ticket, take the ride.”
Hunter S. Thompson